


Vengeful Spirits

by BlaiddGwyn (dragonLeighs)



Series: Jaskier Whump Week [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier Whump Week (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Nightmares, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, surprisingly that's not actually the prompt i had in mind for this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25574188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonLeighs/pseuds/BlaiddGwyn
Summary: During a wraith hunt, Jaskier unknowingly gets cursed. In the following days, the wraith feeds of his life force in order to return to the world after being defeated by the witcher. Geralt has to confront it before it kills the bard.Written for Day 4 of Jaskier whump week. Prompt: Ghost (although it also fits nightmares)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Jaskier Whump Week [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847923
Comments: 2
Kudos: 123





	Vengeful Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> So the prompt I intended to write for this one was ghost as I've already got a fic literally called nightmares but I pretty much ended up writing ghost-induced nightmares. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please leave kudos and comments :)

Jaskier hadn’t seen a wraith before. He’d heard about them of course, how they were restless spirits, cursed to roam the mortal world until they were vanquished. That didn’t mean he wanted to see one any less. The last few hunts he’d accompanied Geralt on had mostly consisted of nekkers and drowners and there were only so many songs he could sing about those. A wraith however was new material and he was desperate, despite the risks Geralt had repeatedly warned him of.

Geralt had told him to stay out of the small cemetery while he dealt with the wraith. He waited by the surrounding trees under the cover of darkness. Unfortunately, one wraith turned out to be a whole host of vengeful spirits. Jaskier had been more than happy for once to keep his distance, not wanting to get caught up in the fight. Things rarely worked out so well.

A green glow appeared behind him as a wraith materialised, announcing its presence with an ear-splitting shriek. Jaskier scrambled away, but not fast enough. The wraith slashed at him with its claws, cutting a line through his doublet and across his chest. It wasn’t too deep but sent an unearthly chill through him, even as hot blood welled up.

“Geralt!” he called, dodging another strike successfully this time. He spared a glance at the witcher who was surrounded by yrden traps, the distinct purple light reflecting off the rain-slicked headstones. There were only two wraiths left, not including the one currently after him, both of which had materialised in the traps.

Jaskier’s attention was returned to the wraith before him when it disappeared, only to appear behind him with another shriek. He span around and took a step back but tripped on the uneven ground, falling in the mud.

This was it. This was how he would die. In the graveyard of some nameless village because the locals mistook a whole host of wraiths for one. He should’ve stayed in the barn with Roach. Just as the wraith was about to strike, a purple glow surrounded him. The wraith became corporeal and a silver sword flashed into view. With a final shriek, the wraith dissolved, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes in its wake.

Now the danger had passed, he abruptly became aware of the pain in his chest. The cut was bleeding sluggishly but as he had suspected, it wasn’t very deep. A gloved hand came into view. He looked up to see Geralt standing above him. He grabbed his hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“You alright?” the wither asked, having already clocked the bleeding gash.

“I’ll live.”

“I can look at that before we collect the reward,” he said, indicating to the wound.

Silently they made their way back to the barn thy had been offered as accommodation. The village was far too small to host an inn and the barn was mostly empty. Honestly, just a simple roof would be good enough, but the hay would make for a comfortable place to sleep.

Roach was waiting inside with their bags laying to the side. Geralt indicated for Jaskier to sit on a crate while he retrieved their medical supplies. Jaskier stripped out of his now wet and muddy doublet and chemise, dropping them in a pile by his feet. He would deal with them later.

Geralt soaked a rag in water in preparation to clean the wound, pressing it surprisingly gently to the area. Jaskier sucked in a hiss of air at it made contact but managed not to flinch away. Once the blood had been cleaned away, it was clear the cut was shallow, and the edges thankfully weren’t ragged.

“I don’t think it’ll need stitches,” Geralt said, preparing some gauze before wrapping a bandage around the bard’s chest. “Just keep it clean. It should heal in a week most likely.”

“Is that a guess because you have no idea how fast humans heal or do you actually know?” Jaskier couldn’t help goading the witcher. He knew his knowledge of humans was limited. In return he had one of his chemises thrown at his face. He supposed he deserved that.

Once Jaskier had found a replacement doublet they headed out to the alderman’s house for their reward. The man argued, claiming Geralt should have proof. Before things could get out of hand, Jaskier stepped in and assured the witcher had dealt with the problem, telling him the wraiths dissolved once defeated. If he wanted proof, he could take a stroll through the graveyard and see the piles of ash for himself. At that he handed over the promised coin and they returned to the barn.

They were both exhausted by the time they got back and Jaskier was very much looking forward to sleeping on something other than the cold, muddy ground. Geralt seemed to fall asleep almost instantly upon lying down. Jaskier however lay there for what felt like hours. At first, he attributed it to the remaining adrenaline from the fight. Then he wondered if it was because he was cold, unsurprising considering the drizzle outside.

For most of the night he simply lay in the dark, wishing sleep would claim him. He could hear the animals around him and Geralt occasionally snoring softly, although he would probably deny doing so. Not long before the sun started rising, he finally managed to fall asleep. That did not however mean it was restful.

_Jaskier was standing in an empty field. The sky was dark, no moon, no stars, just an empty, endless void above him. There was a bitter chill in the air, causing him to shiver. He wrapped his arms around himself, but it did little to warm him._

_“Hello?” he called out to the vast emptiness._

_There was a faint green glow surrounding him. He recognised it instantly. A screech sounded around him, impossibly loud. It seemed to go on forever. He clamped his hands over his ears and curled in on himself on the frozen ground, but it did nothing to block it out._

_At some point he had closed his eyes. He wrenched them open. Before him was the decayed face of the wraith, its exposed skull half hidden by its veil. He tried to move away but he was stuck in place. It felt like it was draining his soul, an all-encompassing feeling of despair overwhelming him. He tried to fight it, to get away but it was no use. His body was frozen in place. It reached out with its withered hand and struck him in the chest with its icy talons. Just as it made contact, the nightmare dissolved._

Jaskier bolted upright with a strangled yell, instantly waking Geralt. His hands flew to his chest where the cut was throbbing beneath the bandages. Hands grabbed at him and he jerked back before he realised it was Geralt.

“Woah, it’s just me,” said the witcher, hands held up as though he was talking to Roach when she got spooked. Jaskier’s breathing came in ragged gasps. He couldn’t help but look around the barn somewhat frantically for any sign of the wraith in the early morning light. Only once he was sure it was nowhere to be found did he finally turn back to Geralt.

“The wraith,” he gasped out, voice rough with residual panic.

“Just a nightmare. They’re all gone now. We’re safe.”

Jaskier nodded, feeling the adrenaline starting to fade. He noticed then that his shirt was clinging to his skin uncomfortably and he felt an unpleasant chill. He was trembling but he put it down to the fear of the nightmare.

While he took a few steadying breaths, Geralt got up and started packing. It was clear neither of them would get any more sleep. Jaskier scrubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. The thought of having to walk until sunset beside Roach was not a pleasant one. Still, he dragged himself out of his bedroll before packing it away to join the rest of their bags.

Geralt couldn’t help but notice how slow he was moving but didn’t mention it. It was clear Jaskier had had a rough night. Bringing attention to it wouldn’t make it any better. He tossed a slightly stale bread roll to the bard who only just about managed to catch it. He then turned his attention to Roach, putting on her tack before situating their bags on her back.

Once he was satisfied they were ready, he took her reins and led her out of the barn. The bard followed, almost silent if it weren’t for the sound of his boots on the packed dirt. The rest of the day was similarly quiet, almost unnervingly so. He was used to Jaskier humming or singing to himself as he walked or even simply chatting away the hours on the road.

He would make the occasional observation about the birds on the trees or a particularly bright patch of flowers, but it didn’t lead into his usual unrelenting speeches about the beauty of nature or something of the sort. He would complain of feeling cold which did strike Geralt as odd. It was early autumn, but the temperature hadn’t dropped much, the sun still holding much of its summer warmth. Perhaps it was a side effect of exhaustion. One they stopped for the night, Jaskier would be fine.

Except things weren’t fine. Only a few hours after they had settled down for the night Geralt jerked away to the sound of a choked scream. He was up, already reaching for his sword before realising it was just Jaskier. He was already sitting up and looking around the small clearing as though he expected to be attacked at any moment.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier whipped around to face him, breaths coming in ragged gasps, shirt soaked in sweat and shivering. “It’s back,” he gasped.

“What’s back?”

“The wraith. It’s going to come back and then it’s going to kill me.”

“Hush now, bard. The wraiths are gone.” He went over to where Jaskier was sitting and crouched down next to him. He placed his hand against his forehead, checking to see if the nightmares and chills might be caused by an illness he had failed to mention. His skin was cool and clammy from sweat but he otherwise seemed fine.

“You should try and sleep. It’s still a long way until the next village.” Geralt went back to his own bedroll and lay down when the bard nodded. He watched him to make sure he would actually lie back down and at least attempt to sleep. 

Jaskier felt like crying but swallowed down the lump in his throat. He did eventually lie back down, hoping it would be enough to convince Geralt he was alright. In truth he dreaded falling asleep again. He tried to steady his breathing in an imitation of sleep. After a while he heard the witcher snoring softly across their camp. Jaskier sat up then, searching for his songbook nearby. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he may as well do something useful to pass the time.

Geralt woke with the rising sun to find the bard awake, sitting huddled under his blanket on his bedroll and scribbling in his notebook. He knew instantly he hadn’t gone back to sleep. Today would involve more travelling and he wasn’t sure how well Jaskier would fare.

“Morning,” he heard from across the camp. Jaskier was looking at him, dark circles under his eyes. He was shivering again which didn’t seem right. The temperature was surprisingly mild for early autumn.

He only grunted in response. He relit the fire and set about preparing something for breakfast. When he handed a bowl of porridge to Jaskier, he seemed hesitant to take it. “You need energy if you refuse to sleep.”

He took it from him then, giving a half-hearted “thank you”. Geralt watched him as he ate his own. Jaskier only managed a few bites before claiming he wasn’t hungry. Geralt knew this was bullshit of course but didn’t press the issue.

They travelled at a slower pace that day. Yet again, Jaskier’s lute was silent. He frequently tripped over his feet and barely uttered a word. It got to the point where he insisted Jaskier ride Roach with him, at least for a while. He hoped he would take a nap. Geralt would make sure he didn’t fall after all.

He did eventually nod off, lulled asleep by the gentle motion of Roach. Geralt was silently pleased. He didn’t understand why these nightmares had started so suddenly. Jaskier had faced worse creatures and been dealt more severe injuries than a flesh wound and had slept fine afterward.

The peace was short lived. Perhaps only half an hour had passed before Jaskier began to stir. He twitched slightly before suddenly tensing up. Geralt felt his medallion hum and quickly looked around for any approaching danger. Finding nothing he returned his attention to Jaskier who was now weakly struggling against him, still caught up in his nightmare.

He pulled Roach to a stop, intending for the nightmare to pass. His medallion only continued to hum harder until Jaskier jerked awake with a choked off scream. He blindly tried to struggle out of Geralt’s grip but the witcher held on to prevent him from falling off the horse.

“Jaskier, it’s only me,” he said in what he hoped was a gentle voice. He did seem to get through to Jaskier as he soon stopped struggling, letting himself collapse against the witcher. “We’re stopping here. There’s something I need to check.”

He dismounted, leaving the bard sitting in the saddle as he led Roach off the road. Once they had stopped and Jaskier had dismounted, Geralt indicated for Jaskier to sit on a fallen log. “Let me check your wound.”

Jaskier complied without comment, which was perhaps one of the most concerning things. He never did anything quietly, usually making some lewd remark about being asked to undress. Instead he removed his doublet and chemise without a word, allowing Geralt to unwrap the bandage, revealing the wound. It was still a bloody mess, not even having scabbed over. Black tendrils reached out across his chest.

“Fuck, is it infected?” Jaskier asked, looking down at the wound.

“No. You’ve been cursed by the wraith. It’s rare which is why I didn’t think of it before. It’s the reason you’ve been having nightmares.”

“Wh- what does that mean, that I’m cursed?”

“The wraith has attached itself to you. It’s feeding off your life force so it can come back, mostly while you’re asleep. It’s why my medallion was vibrating when you were having that nightmare.”

The colour drained from Jaskier’s face. “Is it going to kill me?”

“No. I won’t let it.”

“What are you going to do?”

Geralt began rebandaging the wound, not wanting it to actually become infected. He purposefully ignored Jaskier’s question, but the bard was insistent.

“Geralt. Please tell me you can do something.”

Geralt sighed. “In order banish the wraith, it needs to have enough strength to become physical. The only source of power it has access to right now it you.”

“So, what, we wait until I pass out from having my life drained away and then you fight it?”

“I can speed the process up by giving you a potion that will keep you asleep for longer. That would allow the wraith to draw energy from you much faster. It means however that you’ll be trapped in your nightmare until it’s materialised and I’ve defeated it.”

Jaskier contemplated his words before replying. “Do it. I don’t want to spend any longer tormented by this monster than I have to.” Despite the bruises under his eyes, there was a glint of determination there.

Geralt began setting up camp. They wouldn’t be travelling any further today and brewing the required potion would take time. Thankfully he already had most of the ingredients and those he didn’t could be easily foraged. Jaskier simply say on the log having put his chemise and doublet back on. He didn’t even reach for his lute in an attempt to keep himself awake, instead fighting off sleep by jerking awake as he started to lose balance on the log. Normally Geralt would insist he at least lie down but neither of them wanted Jaskier to suffer another nightmare before necessary.

Night fell and the potion was complete. Jaskier had decided to pace around their small camp in an effort to stay awake and continued to do so even as Geralt was talking to him. It took Geralt gently seizing his arm to stop him in his tracks to break him out of whatever trance he had fallen into. “It’s done.”

Jaskier nodded, following Geralt back to the fire. “Are you sure about this?” the witcher asked.

“I just want this to be over.”

Geralt uncorked the potion and handed it to Jaskier. He took a large gulp of it before coughing. “That’s disgusting.”

“There’s no monster parts if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Slightly more prepared for the taste this time, Jaskier finished of the small bottle. “How long should it take to work?”

“Just a few minutes. You may as well go lie down now.”

Jaskier did as he was told and lay down on his bedroll. Shortly after he fell asleep. All Geralt had to do now was wait. He sat ready with his silver sword lying across his lap. He didn’t have to wait long before his medallion started vibrating. He watched the bard as he began struggling weakly against the wraith in his nightmare. Unlike before, he did not wake. Geralt hated to see him so scared but it was necessary.

The vibration of his medallion gradually increased in strength until he saw the tell-tale green glow of the wraith, just behind where Jaskier was lying. Geralt would need to draw it away from Jaskier if he wanted to be able to fight it without risking the bard.

He threw down yrden behind where the wraith was floating, causing it to move closer to Geralt and away from Jaskier. Having now noticed the witcher’s presence, it came for him, screeching and with its talons bared.

Geralt used yrden again, slowing time around him and causing the wraith to become solid. He swung his sword at it, cutting into its decayed flesh but pushing it out of the trap. It dissipated, Geralt looking all around him for any sign of where it would next appear.

The wraith was clearly still weak, lacking the intelligence to be purposefully stealthy. He kept one eye on Jaskier who had stopped struggling as much as his energy was drained further. If Geralt wanted him to survive, he would need to end this quickly.

The yrden traps had faded away by the time the wraith reappeared. It slashed at Geralt, its claws digging deep into his armour but not cutting through. Geralt signed yrden again, simultaneously swinging his sword at the wraith. It had no chance to dodge and silver struck true, cleaving the wraith’s head clean off. It dissolved into ash before its body could even hit the ground.

Sheathing his sword, he rushed over to Jaskier. He had gone still as the wraith had drawn more energy from him. He needed the physical proof that the wraith hadn’t killed him. He had a pulse, albeit weak and his breathing was shallow, but he seemed to be resting peacefully. He lifted the hem of his chemise up and pulled aside the bandage on his chest. The spidery black lines were fading away. The wraith was gone. Relief washed over him. Jaskier would be alright, if a little weak when he woke in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if the ending was bad, I didn't know how to end it.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!](https://blaidd-gwyn.tumblr.com/)


End file.
